


Thunderous

by QueenofWitchBlood



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Death, Multi, idk - Freeform, its been a while pls forgive me, kind of vent-y, kinda graphic descriptions of wounds?, loss of limb, nb commander, she/her/they/them for my commander ye, vague descriptions of decay and pretty unpleasant inner thoughts frTreias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofWitchBlood/pseuds/QueenofWitchBlood
Summary: Thinking about the festering feeling will force him to think of Trahearne, the Commander shoving Caladbolg through his chest with a sickening squelch and crunch of blood, tissue and bone, stop it, stop thinking about it, stOP IT-





	Thunderous

The silence after is thunderous.

Treias breathes through the thick humidity of the jungle air and shuts his eyes, head tipped back as he revels in the quiet of his own mind. 

Mordremoth’s body lies still beneath his feet, dead, defeated, the stench of rot already starting to emanate from the dragon’s carcass. They did it. They won.

And yet it feels like defeat. 

Beside him, the Commander breathes heavily. They are slumped, body weak from the drain of their magic, blood oozing sluggishly from the stump that was once their left arm. Their breath sounds wet and halted, and when Treias’ eyes open once again to look at them in concern he pretends he can’t see the tears dripping down their face.

He turns to them, gaze slipping past Caladbolg  ~~lodged in Trahearne’s chest he’s dead he’s dead dead dead fuck,~~  and his voice sounds hoarse  ~~from the yelling, the denial, why him, why Trahearne, why couldn’t it have been _them_~~  as he speaks, “You should go get that looked at.”

She shook her head, her eyes locked on the Marshal. Her legs are trembling now and Treias wonders, numbly, if she’d die of blood loss if he just turned around and walked away to leave her on her own. The thought settles like an ugly ball in his mind and he forces himself not to think about it.

~~Thinking about the festering feeling will force him to think of Trahearne, the Commander shoving Caladbolg through his chest with a sickening squelch and crunch of blood, tissue and bone, stop it, stop thinking about it, stOP IT-~~

“We need to-I need to make sure- he needs to be-” burned. Treais knows the Commander  ~~she’s not a friend, you can’t trust her, look what she did, she killed him, killed him without hesitation, how could she, how dare they think they have a right to even look at Trahearne-~~  has a duty to the Pact, or what remains of it, and to the Marshall’s remains. 

In the back of his mind, muted behind the unpleasant numb emotionlessness that drifts through his head like fog, Treias recoils violently from the knowledge. It was necessary but it felt so wrong. 

He watches as the Commander shuffles forwards on weakened legs and Treias feels their magic, burning hot against his own new Druid abilities, being conjured at their hands. He tries not to looks directly at  ~~Trahearne~~  the Marshall’s body as the Commander places their hand,  ~~gentle, gentle, caressing, loving, she loved him, Trahearne and she had always been destined to drift and break and burn but not like this~~  on the wound they inflicted, their fire flickering and lapping hungrily. 

It takes an agonizingly long time for the fire to truly begin to burn. The commander’s legs have given out and she kneels before the flames, watching blankly as the Marshall is reduced to ash. Treias idly wonders if she plans to stay until the fire has burned out and if she’ll collect the ashes that remain to bring them back to the grove with Caladbolg’s broken hilt.

They are joined moments later by the others. Braham and Rytlock brush past him in their hurry to get to the Commander, who Treias realizes with  ~~dread, anxiety, malicious joy~~  a start, has slumped over into unconsciousness. Their stump is still bleeding lightly and they look too pale for a human. He watches as they take the Commander away in a rush, staunching the blood flow even more as much as possible.

Treias knows that she’ll live.  ~~He doesn’t know how to feel about that, joy, relief, disappointment, guilt, self-hatred for wishing them dead~~. He turns his gaze away from the flickering flames and gazes over the jungle. He stands there a few moments, watching the dusk begin to fall over the trees.

He takes a step. Another. Another. In the falling darkness of the jungle, he wanders away from the Pact and into the unknown.


End file.
